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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548247">malum in se</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/joisattempting/pseuds/joisattempting'>joisattempting</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>look over there it's a wild falsettos college au [18]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Falsettos - Lapine/Finn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>?? - Freeform, Brother Feels, Brotherly Angst, Forgiveness, Kinda, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, Other, Reconciliation, Skype, also sorta, hOO B O Y, i just spoiled the entire thing but it’s okay, not fully, sorta - Freeform, well maybe you did i can’t be subtle about anything, you didn’t see that one coming did ya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:34:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/joisattempting/pseuds/joisattempting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>marvin gets a call from someone unexpected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>look over there it's a wild falsettos college au [18]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>malum in se</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>welcome one, welcome all, to part eighteen of the strangest college au on the planet<br/>i remember thinking about the day i’d write this fic when i first started writing this series, and it’s finally here! all the not-so-subtle hints at marvin’s tragic backstory have finally come to a climax. anyway, i really hope you like it &lt;3</p><p>comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, they make me really happy and i love reading them :)</p><p>tw: mentions of hospitals</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Yawning, Marvin switched on his sleek bedside lamp (chosen by Whizzer, of course), the dim yellow light creating some sort of artificial sun. Lifting the lid of his computer, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the screen. Tired was too feeble a word to describe how he both looked and felt. The bags under his half-shut eyes were dark and prominent. Curly hair slouched over his forehead like a deceased flower, the ends obstructing his line of vision. His arm limp, Marvin pushed it back. When had it gotten so long? He’d been so preoccupied with schoolwork that going to the barber’s didn't cross his mind once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Speaking of schoolwork, he had to get this essay finished. Without waking Whizzer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A notification appeared on his screen. Marvin’s eyes ached at its harsh glow as he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. Confused, he squinted through the lenses at the screen. It appeared to be a Skype video call request from an unknown number. Marvin scratched his head, a sick feeling building up in his stomach. He knew the dangers of the Internet, and his left brain begged him to decline the call. But his curiosity was piqued, and even though it killed the cat, satisfaction brought it back in the end. Marvin figured that he shouldn’t be using ancient proverbs to make decisions like this one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sat atop the bathroom’s closed toilet lid, crossing his legs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The person on the other end of the line was a mirror image of Marvin, only without the circular brown glasses, tired eyes, and sad demeanour. The person on the other end of the line was someone Marvin knew better than he would have liked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Marvin…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Emmett.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elder began to scratch with vigour at hands that itched persistently. Hands that itched for the piano. Hands that itched to play with his boyfriend’s hair. Hands that itched to hang up on his little brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He drew blood. But the twinge and trickles of scarlet liquid could wait. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I was wondering if you could help me,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marvin nearly laughed. Emmett, the golden boy, his parents’ pride and joy who could do no wrong, wanted his help? After watching him be scrutinised until he got sick, and buttoning his lips? For the past three years, he seemed to be accepting of the fact that his brother wanted nothing to do with him after he left for college - what changed? What switch in that brain of his was flipped to make him ponder the whereabouts of his big brother?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marvin took in Emmett’s surroundings, surveying the enlarged, grainy image of him on the computer screen. Behind him was what appeared to be a barren, dingy, sparse college dorm. At Harvard, judging by the large hoodie with the university’s logo the younger seemed to be wearing. He winced, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for his boyfriend’s taste and skills in design. The eighteen-year-old looked hopeful, tilting his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something in Marvin couldn’t let him say no to a fellow lawyer-in-training. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh… what does ‘malum in se’ mean?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An action that’s evil in itself. Example, assault. Or murder,” Marvin mumbled gruffly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Helping him felt wrong. Even conversing with the family member he hadn’t contacted for three consecutive years seemed alien to the older man. He resisted the urge to clamp a hand on his mouth, as if he were to shove the words back inside; the bastard could go look it up himself. After all, he’d had to. The star student of the junior class had made his way up from nothing. Began stacking his building blocks from the day he’d first walked the hallowed halls of NYU. Nobody he knew was there to help him. He made it through an entire year of all-nighters and Latin words and pounding headaches all by himself. Yes, he had roommates and friends, but none pursued a law career. Their kind words soothed him, but Marvin sometimes wished they could understand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time the second semester of his sophomore year rolled around, he’d found his footing, with the help of a handful of classmates and his professors; some of which aged and wise, others young and fresh out of law school. He’d worked. Hard. There were no two ways about it when it came to a law degree. And now here Emmett was, really believing that he’d be granted the wish of assistance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” the younger said at length, scrubbing at his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Marvin responded curtly, playing with his hands. “What are you doing up? It’s midnight on Eastern Standard,” he added, before he could stop himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finishing an essay. You?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The same, actually,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No sleep for lawyers, huh?” Emmett tried to joke, taking a sip of what looked like a Red Bull. It scared Marvin how much his little brother resembled him at that moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess,” the man in the bathroom smiled a tight, thin-lipped smile; the first one he’d given the younger man since he’d left home. Emmett smiled back. Were they the best of friends? Certainly not. But could this exchange be breaking new ground in their relationship? Neither was sure. But it could be. And that was all that mattered to Emmett. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An unsettling silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t talk to Mom and Dad anymore,” Emmett swallowed thickly, sipping at the energy drink. “Not after what they did to you. I don’t think it’s… human,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fraying twine that held the older man together snapped in half. Tearing off his glasses, Marvin swiped at his eyes with his hand in an attempt to compose himself, but alas, to no avail. It felt surreal and sort of wrong to be crying in front of Emmett. He was a water glass knocked onto its side, allowing liquid to spread like wildfire. So, so many emotions were chucked into one enormous, bubbling soup of feelings. Anger was prominent, but that was mainly because he was confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit,” Marvin spat, still sobbing. “Of course you’ve gotta come right out and say that. You’ve just gotta be the good cop, don’t you? The sweet little innocent angel that just wants everyone to get along. You couldn’t give two fucks about what I’ve been through, what those goddamn… </span>
  <em>
    <span>sadists </span>
  </em>
  <span>did. You don’t know, Emmett. Stop pretending-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I snuck out to see you when you were in hospital,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Momentarily, Marvin paused. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I snuck out,” he repeated. “That… that drawing. The one of you in your Fiddler costume. I drew it. And-and I snuck out to put it in your hospital room. They didn’t want me to see you. But I wanted to. ‘Cause you’re my big brother,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were both crying then. Silent, heartbroken tears. One on a toilet in a bathroom situated five minutes away from New York University, another hours away in a barren dormitory at Harvard. Because there were so many misunderstandings. So many knots in their tangled-up family. And not communicating wouldn’t help at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t spoken to them since I left,” Emmett said earnestly, the sleeve of his sweater wet with tears. “I should’ve said something ages ago. I was being a coward. Marvin, I’m sorry,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I can forgive you just yet,” the older man said, his voice wobbling. He put his glasses back on, after drying his eyes a final time. “But I’m glad we talked. Really glad, actually. I think, at some point, we can be good friends again. I was being a coward, too, by just leaving you in the dust without a word. I guess… I just didn’t want to think about facing you guys again. So I suppose we’re even,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emmett still wept, his hair falling in his eyes. “Thanks for helping me. And listening. I, uh, I’m sorry again,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finish your essay in the morning,” Marvin smiled again. It was small and slight, but it was there. “We both need to go to bed,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Marvin,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Em,”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>fin. </span>
  </em>
</p>
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